Curious Stares
by NotSus
Summary: Hermione is wondering why Fleur keeps acting strange around her. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

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Applause rang throughout the great hall. Professor Dumbledore had just announced the new Potions master, Fleur Delacour.

Hermione Granger was speechless as she watched her friends (male friends, mostly) eye the new professor with dreamy looks of admiration and desire. Hermione knew that Fleur was fairly good academically, but she had to see for herself just how well she could _teach. _She tried to keep an open mind, however, and came into Potions the next day with only a slight bias.

"Today we will be brewing a silencing potion," Professor Delacour spoke to the class. "Sounds utterly useless when there is a simple spell to perform the trick, but what if you were in different circumstances, no?" She added on this last part after seeing a skeptical look on Hermione Granger's face. After she had given permission, the class broke into somewhat of a frenzy, many students rushing to finish the potion in order to please Fleur. Hermione scoffed at this and went at the assignment at her normal speed (which was quite fast anyway).

Hermione went to the supply closet to grab more diced lacewing, and noticed that Professor Delacour was looking at her. She thought nothing of this, and grabbed the lacewing and continued the potion.

Ah, this was it, the black steam was rising from the cauldron just as the book said it would. Hermione smiled and looked up at her resulting cloud of darkness. Through the smoke she could make out a pair of cerulean eyes staring at her, but Fleur's body was turned in another direction.

These strange occurrences happened again, whenever the class was assigned a potion Fleur seemed to take interest in Hermione. But it wasn't always during brewing, during lectures she would let the girl expand her answers to Fleur's questions to the fullest extent, whereas most other teachers would cut Hermione off after she had sufficiently answered their question. Hermione had also noticed that Fleur seemed to stare at her an awful lot in any case, and never broke eye contact when she spoke to her. Hermione wasn't the only one to notice these things, however.

"What's she taking so much interest in you, now?" Ron asked after class, a scowl on his face.

"I honestly don't know," Hermione said. "But I wish she would stop it, it's giving me the creeps."

"Yeah, you almost didn't want to answer that question about moonstones, did you Hermione?" Harry said, and he and Ron laughed.

"Hermione? Not answer a question when asked? Preposterous!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione playfully punched Ron in the arm, but she later realized that he was right. She felt uncomfortable under Fleur's everlasting gaze, and the way she would stare so intensely into her eyes whenever Hermione decided to make eye contact was unnerving.

The next class assignment was to make a high-level sleeping draught. Hermione was feeling more and more distracted as she felt her Professor's eyes burn into her when she worked, but to her pleasure the potion turned just the right shade of blue that the book described. Happy, she turned the potion in with the rest of the class and made for the door.

Before Hermione could leave, Fleur spoke. "Mademoiselle Granger, may I have a word with you?" Hermione froze in her tracks and wondered what Fleur could want with her. The rest of the class had already left, it was before lunch and everyone was hungry, including Hermione. But she made her way back to the professor's desk, and tentatively asked "Yes?" Fleur gave a small, friendly smile, and then stood up from her desk to match heights with Hermione.

"I wanted to talk with you about your work, lately," Fleur said simply.

Hermione started to get worried, and when she spoke her voice was a little shaky. "What's wrong? Did I do today's potion wrong?" she asked. The Professor thought it was adorable how Hermione worried so.

Fleur made her way around her desk and sat on the front edge, facing Hermione. The younger girl noticed her skirt slid up quite a few inches when she did this, and Fleur didn't bother to fix it. "I know you can do better than this." She reached over onto her desk and picked up Hermione's vial, the contents now a murky brown.

Hermione gasped. "That's _supposed _to be blue," she said worriedly.

"Yes, Hermione, I'm afraid you forgot to add more powdered turnip root. This sleeping draught was only valid for about five minutes."

Hermione narrowed her brow. "This has never really happened to me before, professor, except for that time with Slughorn…but that was because of the time, I finished this with time to spare…how could I have done this?" Fleur noticed how beautiful and passionate her eyes became when she spoke so worriedly. Such sad, sad eyes.

Barely registering what Hermione had just said, Fleur spoke softly, still knowing what she was about to say would hurt the girl's self esteem.

"I want you to take private lessons with me weekly."

Hermione had made her way to her private Head Girl dorm and now lay in bed, thinking about what had just happened. Fleur had wanted _her_, the top student of her year, to start taking private lessons. There were many students in the class that were far less skilled in potions than she was (Ron, for example), but Professor Delacour had insisted that she knew Hermione could be doing better than she had been. She stared at the ceiling for a moment.

_I know why she's been staring at me so much, _Hermione thought, _it's to monitor what I've been doing wrong, why the quality of my work has been declining…_ Hermione was doing just fine in her other classes, but for some reason Potions had been upsetting her. She came upon the conclusion that private lessons were the best thing for her to do, even if the idea of them had hurt her pride.

Meanwhile, Fleur paced around in her dorm. This ineffable feeling inside of her – what was it? She knew Hermione didn't need private lessons, not in the least! Her work may have been declining but it was nothing a talk with her couldn't fix! Hermione was probably stressed out with all of the things that had been going on lately, she _was_ taking a full load of courses. Then why did she offer unneeded private lessons? Why did she yearn to find out more about Hermione, and to spend more time with her? Why did she constantly find her eyes locked on the bushy haired girl's slender form? Why did she find Hermione taking notes so intriguing, her talented little hand working away on the parchment…Fleur had to stop kidding herself. She wanted Hermione Granger.

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A/N: My very first fan fiction. How exciting. Well, comments and suggestions would be appreciated, especially suggestions on how I could improve my writing. Hopefully the next chapter will be soon... 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story except the plot.

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Hermione stood outside the door into the Potions room. She sighed softly, and wondered to herself why she was so worried about this. She felt something odd was going to happen, but she didn't know what.

Hermione pushed the door open and saw Fleur sitting at her desk reading a potions book. She looked up slowly when her student came in, and she gestured towards a seat in front of her desk. Hermione made her way to the seat and began to take out her supplies, quill, and some parchment.

"I want you to start," Fleur began, "by making a simple relaxant."

Hermione scoffed. "Professor, that is incredibly easy!"

Fleur smiled warmly at Hermione. "From memory." Hermione's expression softened. "No books, no instructions. You should remember how to do this, Mademoiselle Granger, or at least be able to figure it out." The girl looked a little more worried now, but she hardened her features and spoke out confidently, "Not a problem."

Hermione took out her cauldron and only thought a second before heating it up. She then started to grind some turnip root into a powder. If she remembered correctly, this potion was very similar to the previous one she had made in class, the sleeping draught. As she worked, Fleur observed her closely, as always. Hermione went quickly, she was a bit insulted at her assignment and was determined to prove to Fleur she wasn't just an incompetent fool as her professor apparently thought she was. The girl reached towards a vial with a red liquid, and something grabbed her wrist.

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_Ah! _Fleur thought as she grabbed Hermione's slender wrist. _So passionate in her work that she doesn't even look at what she's grabbing! _Fleur broke into a small grin and looked at Hermione warningly.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Hermione?" she whispered.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she became defensive. "Of course, this is simple, I know what I'm doing," she added on, "Professor."

She snatched back the vial without a second glance at its contents and poured it into the cauldron. A loud explosion ensued, and a thick black cloud fumed out rapidly from the top of the cauldron, which was now upturned on its side. Liquid laved the table slowly, and then began to drip on the cold stone floor. Fleur hurriedly flicked her wand and the wet mess disappeared. In the commotion Hermione had fallen onto the floor, and some of the contents of the cauldron had spilled on her front. It had acted like an extremely caustic acid and eaten away at her shirt, and some of her skin underneath. Her face was blackened a little by the smoke, and she looked at the vial still clutched in her unclean fingers.

"Dragon saliva…" she breathed. "How could I be so stupid…"

"It's all right," Fleur spoke kindly, offering a hand to the girl. "They look very similar…although, I must insist, mademoiselle Granger, that you pay more attention next time. I even tried to help you and your arrogance took over." Hermione grimaced and took her professor's hand.

"Come," Fleur said, "I have some ointment for that wound. Or maybe I shouldn't give you anything, then that might teach you a lesson." Her eyes sparkled playfully as she looked at Hermione's injury for a second longer than necessary.

_Merde! _Fleur thought to herself as she led the girl into her office, _Enough glances and she'll know how you feel about her! _Fleur inwardly scolded herself for being so careless. But then another voice in the professor's head posed the question, _But why not let her know? _

Hermione was attempting to wipe the soot off of her face, but only smeared it more and transferred some onto her hands. The girl gave a resigned sigh. Looking away from Hermione and turning to push open the door to her office Fleur answered herself, _Because you're afraid she doesn't feel the same way._

_-------_

Hermione gave a mental growl. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! _She thought to herself. _Why in the name of Merlin did I have to be so careless? _She looked down at her partially revealed chest and frowned. Hermione had no intention of being careless coming in, in fact, she was determined to do everything right and show Fleur that she was capable of doing anything the older witch threw at her. But for some reason she had botched the whole thing up. Her thinking hadn't been clear, she subconsciously knew that she had grabbed the dragon saliva but had put it in the cauldron anyway. Hermione had never been like this before, what had changed that made her act in this new, foolish way?

Fleur held open the door and Hermione walked inside her office. It had changed considerably since Snape had held the position of Potions master, the walls were still covered in indescribable objects but the office was brighter and more welcoming. Fleur closed the door and began to scan the shelves while Hermione took a gander at Fleur's desk. There were papers, essays from students that she was grading. Hermione looked closer and noticed that her essay was on the top. Fleur had found the ointment she was looking for and turned to see Hermione looking at the essays.

"Don't worry, you did very well," Fleur said with a smile.

"Oh, I…" Hermione was a little embarrassed at being caught looking, and turned away sharply, her face red.

Fleur gave an amused chuckle and dipped her fingers into the ointment. She started to move towards Hermione but the girl backed up hurriedly.

"Professor..I..I can do that," she laughed shakily as she covered up her wound.

Fleur smiled. "Don't be ridiculous. Come here." She pulled Hermione's hand from her chest and held it to the side. She touched Hermione's skin with the cold ointment and Hermione gave a small shudder.

"It will only hurt for a second," Fleur said, flicking her eyes up to meet Hermione's, whose were paralyzed in fear. Fleur rubbed the ointment on slowly, savoring each moment her hand was in contact with Hermione's skin, even if it was red and damaged. She stood close to the younger girl, still maintaining an unneeded grip on her wrist with her other hand. Hermione could feel Fleur's breath on her as she rubbed in the ointment, the hot air blowing against the cool, exemplifying how cold the cream was. Fleur finally stopped rubbing and moved her hand off of Hermione's chest slowly, caressingly. Hermione stammered a "T-Thank you!" and broke from Fleur's grip as she bolted out the door.

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A/N: I got a little more confident with my writing, I think, but it is quite hard not to just go straight to the climax. Hehe. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Hermione burst open into the Gryffindor common room and was relieved to find that it was empty. She had not spent as much time as she had anticipated with Fleur, and everyone else must still be at dinner. Hermione plopped down into an armchair and pointed her wand at her chest. "Repairo," she said, out of breath. The shirt stitched itself back up. She had been so nervous when Fleur approached her like that…as a matter of fact, she had been really nervous the whole time she was making the potion. Hermione was so incredibly unfocused that she had done something as stupid as putting Dragon saliva in a relaxant!

_Next week, that's when I'll show her. _Hermione thought. _I'll show her I can do anything she asks of me, and more. _

A week passed, with nothing particularly exciting happening – although Fleur did seem to stare at Hermione less during class. Rather than make her feel better, this sudden lack of inattention made the girl feel worse.

_What, does she think I'm not worthy of a glance now that I've proved I'm a complete idiot? _Hermione was not only disappointed in herself, she was mad at Fleur. Mad at her for coming into a school that she did not even attend, mad at her for making Hermione take private lessons, mad at her just because she was _Fleur Delacour. _She was determined to show Fleur once and for all that she was just as bright as she had always been.

Hermione pushed open the heavy dungeon doors and made her way into the Potions room. To her surprise, the Professor was not in sight when she made her way into the classroom, so she just lingered around Fleur's desk. There was nothing exciting on that desk, Hermione was sure everything important was on the desk in her private office. But just out of curiosity, the girl started to look through the papers that lay on the top.

"You can get in deep trouble for that, you know," a slightly accented, feminine voice came from behind Hermione. "I would appreciate it if you would stop looking through my things, mademoiselle." Hermione backed away, eyes down, without a word. She didn't know why she had gone through Fleur's papers, she had had that opportunity to do the same with many other professors, and at times she had been tempted (to see if her assignments had been graded yet, of course) but she had never actually looked through any of her superior's private belongings.

"We are not going to be making a potion today," Fleur spoke, "I want to talk to you about something." She made her way to the front of the classroom and motioned for Hermione to sit down. The girl did so. Fleur looked in her deep brown eyes intensely for a second and then looked away. "You do not need potions lessons." The professor spoke simply. "You are the brightest witch of your year." The girl blushed slightly, but did not look down.

"Thank you, professor. I…think I'm just going through a rough time, right now. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure I'll overcome it with time."

"Hermione…you can overcome this any time you want," Fleur shook her head. "I've spoken with Professor Snape, and he informs me, unwillingly of course," she laughed, "that you were one of his best students. Right now, in my class, you are average at best. Even Ronald Weasley had almost surpassed you on that last potion."

Hermione looked angry at this last statement, and perhaps a little hurt.

"I know you can do better, and if your work doesn't start to pick up I'm afraid that your grade is going to reflect that."

"What do you suggest I do?" Hermione said, raising her voice. "I'm trying the best I can, I –"

"That's just it," interrupted Fleur in a harder tone. "You're _not _trying."

"Of course I'm trying, what a preposterous thing to say!" Hermione spoke, even louder this time, her eyes on the brink of tears. "Why wouldn't I be trying? Do you think I _want _to fail? I've tried so hard to succeed all my life and now I'm failing, do you know how that feels? No, you don't; you've just coasted through life on your good looks, never having to worry about if you made a little mistake here and there!"

Fleur's eyes flared. "How _dare _you say that! Need I remind you who the Goblet of Fire chose to be the Beaubaxtons champion in the Triwizard Tournament? Goblets do not have appeal towards physical beauty!" Hermione stood up, fists balled, and Fleur strode forward to meet her. They stood, eye to eye, about a half a foot away, eyes locked and burning with intensity.

"Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you," Fleur spat in a lower tone, and then grabbed Hermione's shoulders and pushed her lips fiercely onto the other girl's. Her hands made their way up Hermione's neck to her cheeks, and Fleur held on to her face tightly as their soft lips continued their heated embrace. Hermione had closed her eyes hard, her fists slowly relaxing and placing themselves tentatively on Fleur's hips. It seemed like eternity before Hermione pushed Fleur away and stood back, an angry expression still on her face.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little bit short, but I just had to end it there. Just to give you that cliffhanger, because I'm so nice like that. ;) Well, as always, reviews are appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry about the long time without updating. Calculus is killing me. Hah. Well, enjoy.

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Hermione stood looking at Fleur for almost a straight minute, and tears started to well up in her eyes and she ran yet once again from the dungeons. Hot streams of tears poured down her cheeks as the sprinted to her dormitory. To the girl's luck, she didn't see any other students in the halls. Her feet pounded loudly as she took her long strides in the corridors; Hermione was surprisingly angry. Not angry that Fleur had kissed her, but angry at the burst of passion she had felt burn inside of her as the two women's lips had met in that furious embrace.

Fleur watched Hermione's retreating figure bursting out of the classroom door, and she didn't feel anything but regret. Her slender hands made their way up to her mouth, and brushed against the skin that Hermione's lips had themselves just touched. She gave a melancholy shudder and retreated back to her room.

Hermione shoved open the door to her dorm and threw herself on her bed, sobbing. "Damn her," was all she spoke between sobs. "Damn her." She grabbed her Potions book and opened it to an arbitrary page. Holding back her tears in a grimace, she forced herself to read. Line after line, page after page…Hermione did not know how long she had been reading that book, but she awoke after some time to a soft tapping sound coming from her window. When she opened her eyes, she looked down to find the Potions book smudged with tears and the page number extremely larger than it had been when she had started. There was an owl at the window, and Hermione opened it to grab the letter.

It was from Dumbledore, wondering why she had missed all of her morning classes. Hermione sighed and unsuccessfully tried to put Fleur out of her mind as she scrawled a response: "Sorry, Professor. Haven't been feeling well." And sent the owl off. The girl glanced at herself in the mirror and scowled at her grungy appearance. She gave a flick of her wand and her hair became less mussed, her eyes less red.

Potions was later that afternoon, and Hermione was determined to focus and complete a flawless potion. She had read massive amounts of information last night, and whether that helped or not, it _did _manage to get her mind off of Fleur. Plus, it didn't hurt to have gotten some extra studying done before the test that next Friday.

There was another knock, this time coming from the door. Hermione cleared her throat and spoke out, "Who is it?"

The voice that answered was deep and concerned. "It's Harry…I'm worried about you, Hermione. Let me in." But the girl didn't let him in. Instead, she made up an excuse, "Harry, I'm sorry, I'm really busy right now, can I talk to you later?" There was silence for a few moments and then Harry answered with a meager "Alright." Hermione knew that Harry wasn't _really _all that concerned, but Ginny had probably put him up to it; that girl could make him do anything. Ginny really did care for Hermione, but lately their relationship had been on the rocks because of some dispute over Ginny dating Harry (Hermione thought it would be a disadvantage for Harry to be in a relationship during such critical times) and maybe the younger girl didn't find it appropriate to talk to her yet.

Potions class was as awkward as both Hermione and Fleur thought it was going to be. Neither of them made eye contact, and Hermione constantly seemed to be absorbed in her notes. Fleur never called on the girl to answer questions, and Hermione never volunteered answers.

It continued as such until Friday, the day of the Potions test. Hermione had been using studying as a means of getting her mind off of her professor, and when she took a look at the test, knew it had been all worthwhile. All the answers came fluidly into the girl's mind, and her pen flowed on parchment like wind. She made her answers as in-depth and thorough as she could make them, and she knew that there wasn't one question she had missed. Hermione was the last done, but a quick glance and any other paper and one would see that Hermione's was three times as detailed.

"I look forward to grading your test, mademoiselle Granger," said Fleur as Hermione walked out the door. This was the first thing either of them had said to one another in days, and Hermione almost jumped when she heard Fleur speak her name. She avoided eye contact and didn't respond as she made her way out the door, but her face was burning hot and her heart beat like the clack of a galloping horse's hooves.

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A/N: The next chapter will be the last chapter, I think. But don't worry, it'll be good. Review:D 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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After an uneventful weekend yet again cooping herself up in her room, Hermione sat at her desk on that Sunday night looking wearily at her Potions book. She had read the whole thing in attempts to impress Fleur (which, little to her knowledge, she had already done many times), but it still didn't seem like Hermione was going to be satisfied with that. There was something missing that she couldn't figure out when it came to Fleur – she thought that showing her worthiness as a Potions student would fill her inner void, but there was something else there.

For the first time since it happened, Hermione let herself think of the kiss. Her brain constantly urged her to relive it; she refused to even let it cross her mind. Instead, she concentrated fully on reading and studying, which was sometimes so hard to do that it gave her a headache. Hermione didn't want to think about the kiss, because she knew something she felt during that experience was the same something that would satisfy that empty space in her heart. She decided she couldn't take it any more, and her memory recalled the event at the speed of a cracking whip.

She had felt so passionate when she was arguing with Fleur, and although Hermione was indeed angry at her, she actually _enjoyed _the argument. It had stirred an ardent whirlpool inside her, something she hadn't felt since she lost her zeal to be the best at everything. When her Professor grabbed her and initiated the kiss, Hermione could feel the flow of passion between their bodies weave forwards and backwards through their connected lips. It was something that Hermione had never experienced before, and it was something that she didn't think she could live without. She started to weep silently into her ink-stained hands at that last thought.

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Fleur slashed her red pen scornfully on the piece of parchment in front of her. The criticizing words she wrote no longer made sense to her, but they applied to her situation in some way. She scratched a blotchy red "D" at the top and shoved it away. It was Hermione's test. The girl had done far better than any other student, but Fleur wasn't going to give her that happiness. No, she had already given her too much – her broken heart had made that message clear.

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Hermione was running late that Monday morning. She hastily shoved papers and books into her bag and ran out of her dorm in a worried frenzy; she was already a minute late for Charms. When she entered the room all heads turned to stare at her – Hermione Granger, late for a class? Ron seemed to find it rather amusing, and Harry had that same worried look on his face that he had when she had seen him last. Professor Flitwick didn't even take points off from Gryffindor he was so appalled at his best student's tardiness. Hermione ignored the curious looks from her classmates and took a seat, sinking low in the chair, reliving the kiss between her and Fleur for the fiftieth time that morning.

Fleur also seemed to be running late. The class was restless when she finally entered the classroom door, and she had to snap her wand and make a loud bang to get their attention. Hermione Granger's attention was on her professor all the while.

"I'll be handing your exams back momentarily," Fleur spoke in a disheveled way as she straightened the mess of papers on her desk. "Susan Bones." She called the student's names off one by one until, the girl almost breaking from anticipation, she called Hermione's name. The walk up to the front of the classroom under Fleur's gaze was difficult, but what was about to come was even more paining.

"_D?_" Hermione whispered unbelievingly under her breath as she clutched her exam tightly and made her way back to her seat. Fleur was rambling on about something, but Hermione didn't hear her. The girl's ears burned and her breathing was shallow and frequent. She looked at the marks Fleur had made on her paper, and none of them made any sense. "_Obsolete?_ Moonstones are very much so being used to this day!" Hermione said angrily under her breath. She debunked every thing her professor had written on her paper, and, with a determined argument in her mind, she waited patiently until Fleur had dismissed the class.

The professor didn't look at her student; instead, she made her way back to her office without a word. Hermione heatedly followed, paper in hand. Fleur had slammed the door but Hermione opened it right back up again. The professor's back was turned over her desk, looking at something that wasn't even there.

"What is this?" Hermione spat at Fleur.

The older woman turned slowly around and scowled at the girl.

"All of my answers are not only valid, but I have given the OPTIMAL answer for every question you've asked! Everything you have marked on here does not make any sense, _professor._" She narrowed her brows in emphasis as she said the last word. Fleur did not make a sound, instead, she crossed her arms for a second as she leaned against her desk, and then grabbed the exam from Hermione.

"You cannot debate this grade. I have graded all the exams equally, and I'm sorry Mademoiselle Granger, but it turns out you are not doing very well in Potions after all. I really am very sorry." She sat the exam down on her desk with a sort of finality.

Hermione's eyes glistened with tears of frustration. She spoke softly yet clearly, staring Fleur in the eye; "What do you want from me? What are you trying to do to me?"

Fleur did not give an answer.

"At least…please…change my grade," Hermione said softly, tears running down her tender skin. "That's all I want…just…change my grade."

Fleur looked intensely at Hermione and shook her head. The professor's mouth trembled as she said piercingly "It was never about the grades!" She stood up straight and clutched Hermione's shoulders, pulling her body closer to her own. Their lips met as Fleur continually pulled the younger girl's body in tighter, turning her around to switch their places. Fleur shoved Hermione down roughly, passionately on her desk, sending papers flying from underneath. She was on top of the girl, pushing her lips onto even softer ones, running one hand through bushy hair as the other clutched Hermione's head. Hermione gasped for air as Fleur continually pushed their lips together, devouring ever so gently the one she loved.

Their breasts moved against each other roughly as they continued their embrace, Fleur's legs on either side of Hermione's, the heat from their thighs tantalizingly radiating onto one another. Fleur moved her hands down to below Hermione's blouse and touched the bare skin that was exposed on both sides beneath the girl's ribcage. Hermione shuddered at this sudden contact on her sensitive skin as they continued to kiss.

Fleur's passion was hardly sated when she laid down tiredly beside Hermione on the desk and turned to face the girl, who was looking up at the ceiling, still in awe. She couldn't ignore love, and she didn't know why she had even tried. The empty feeling in her heart was gone, and the D long forgotten.

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A/N: So...what do you think? 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Okay, I lied. This story isn't finished. :c) I read it over again..and I just couldn't leave it like that. I really couldn't. So, here's another chapter, and there will be more to come. Enjoy!

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Fleur continued to study Hermione's awestruck face, a rather dreamy look on her own. 

"Prof-…Fleur," Hermione spoke softly, turning to face the other woman. "I'm so sorry I…I never had faith in you as a teacher." She swallowed, looking down in embarrassment. "I figured you were just a pretty face, and, to be honest, I was jealous of you."

Fleur smiled, cupping Hermione's cheek with her hand. "Hermione…" she giggled, stroking the girl's cheek with her thumb. "I never wanted you to see me that way. You were always my best student, and I saw…" she suddenly stopped talking, and her eyes, filled with fear, flicked upwards above Hermione's head. "No…please!" Fleur stumbled off the table to her feet, trying to reach the door. Hermione, instantly filled with horror, turned over to face the door – and all she saw was a brief glimpse of a long, billowing black cloak.

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_Professor Snape has informed me that he will notify the headmaster if our relationship continues. Student/Professor relationships are against Hogwarts policy, and Professor Dumbledore will be forced to have me removed from my position if this were to continue._

_I'm sorry, Hermione._

_Best, _

_Fleur_

Hermione read the letter once; it was more than enough. In a state of unusual tranquility, she folded it up neatly and placed it in the bottom right drawer of her desk. Both of her elbows rested on the table, her hands cupping her face. A silent, steady stream of tears ran from her eyes and down her bare forearms, only a few strong tears hitting the desk below. She knew it was against Hogwarts policy, but somehow, her mind neglected to remind her.

_Why did I have to fall in love with her? _Her brow furrowed in her palms.

_The first time I experience love, and life gives me this? _She brought down her right elbow on the desk in anger.

_She would lose her job…but I don't care! It is love! Why can't she give up a mere job for the best thing in the world? For love! _Hermione slammed her arms on the desk in frustration, knocking a bottle of ink off of the desk and onto the floor, where it left a large black puddle.

_She couldn't give it up for me?_

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Fleur sat on the ground against the wall in her room, jaw clenched with a sort of determination. Snape had seen them, lying there, together, on her desk… he had maybe even seen them kiss. It was proof enough to get her terminated, and the last thing Fleur wanted to do was leave Hogwarts.

_Professor Snape does not know love, _she thought bitterly. Fleur pictured Hermione's soft face before her, pale, smooth skin and unthreatening light brown eyes looking into hers. _I had her, my Hermione…_

But Fleur knew that keeping a job was more important, more important than risking it all for someone who she wasn't even sure loved her back.

_He does know love, the jealous bastard. That is the problem._


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Last chapter! :o Tell me what you think! I think I could have made it a bit more...drawn out, but, well, to be honest, I'm tired, and I wanted to post this tonight.

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Severus Snape sat hunched over his desk, touching his fingertips together under his nose. He was pondering the disturbing situation he had just witnessed. It was just that, disturbing – almost as disturbing as the thought of someone like Longbottom and himself engaging in a regular midnight tryst.

But that wasn't the part that bothered him the most. The situation had brought back some…unpleasant memories of his. He buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily. Painful, guilty memories, memories of light brown curls and startling green eyes…

_Lily Evans lightly brushed his arm as she walked towards her desk. Snape looked up from his own desk, startled at the touch._

"_Excuse me, Severus," she said, glancing back with a small smile. _

Snape repressed the memory as best as he could. His only memory of her touch. Love was an evil thing. No one deserved it in the first place. He was only doing a favor for Granger and Delacour.

* * *

"And that, my dears, is all for today. I'll hand back your assignments now." Professor Delacour turned to her desk and grabbed a large stack of papers.

Fleur began to call off the students' names, one by one. Hermione sat in the back with her head down, not looking forward to the walk up to her professor.

Students began to filter out until there was only one left. "Hermione Granger." The name seemed to echo throughout the room. Hermione stood up and walked to Fleur.

"Nice job on the homework," Fleur said impersonally, holding out the homework for Hermione. Hermione, head down, reached for it. Their fingers brushed lightly and Hermione looked up in surprise. Their eyes locked and there was a small pause. Fleur began to open her mouth but Hermione had already started briskly walking away.

Fleur was hesitant to say anything else, but when she saw Hermione nearly out the door, some kind of instinct kicked in. "Hermione!" Fleur yelled. The girl stopped in her tracks, but did not turn around. "Hermione, please…"

There was a long silence as Hermione stared through the open door in front of her. The corridor beckoned her, with promises of solid walls and numbingly cold cobblestones. Her heart grew stony. She wasn't going to be teased with hope again.

But Hermione just couldn't walk away. She didn't turn around, but said "What do you want?" into the empty corridor. She could hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind her, and felt a sudden warmth on her back. "Stop-I don't want…" Hermione pushed Fleur away and walked toward the door, her eyes beginning to water.

There was a loud bang as the wooden door slammed shut in front of her. Hermione's path was blocked. She turned around and saw Fleur, poised with her wand. She had closed the door.

They stood facing each other for a few long moments before Fleur began to slowly approach Hermione. Hermione, with nowhere else to go, backed up against the door. Tears were pooling up in her eyes. Fleur was getting closer, and closer, and she was walking faster –

Fleur grabbed Hermione around the waist and pushed her against the door, kissing her with more passion than she had ever felt before. The only sound was the clank of the wood behind Hermione as her body was shoved against it. Their lips, like old friends, met once more; and their bodies, at the first touch, became reacquainted with the soft press of someone familiar. Hermione closed her eyes and the tears began to flow down in streams, outlining the shape of their meeting lips.

The kiss lasted for so long, and when they pulled apart, both of their lips glistening from Hermione's tears, they shuddered against each other, trying to intake oxygen but unable to get in a deep breath.

Fleur could hear Hermione's labored, shaky breath next to her ear. She wanted to tell her what she had decided, she wanted to tell her that …"I love you," the younger girl whispered. Fleur pulled her closer together, putting her cheek against Hermione's. She brushed back Hermione's hair from her face in repeated strokes.

"I'm not worried about him," Fleur breathed into Hermione's ear. "I don't care about him anymore. All I want is you. I'm willing to risk anything." They held each other in silence.

The had stood still for nearly ten minutes when Fleur began to hear footsteps approaching. Before they could pull apart, the door flung open and Professor Snape stood, extremely started, before them. Hermione didn't turn around, but held Fleur tighter. Fleur stared up at the man, not saying anything.

Snape looked at both of them with a blank stare. His eyes glossed over them, and their position, and the expression in Fleur's eyes. Finally, after a minute, he spoke.

"You're a good professor, Delacour," he murmured softly. "Just…just don't let this become…too public." As soon as the word "public" escaped his lips, Snape turned around and slammed the door behind him. It took Fleur more than a second to realize what had just happened. She looked down at Hermione, who had a half grin on her tear-stained face. They gave each other matching smiles, and it wasn't long before their smiles turned into outright laughter.

* * *

Snape looked at them, clutching each other. Fleur's knuckles were bone-white; she was grasping onto Hermione as if her life depended on it. He looked into her eyes. There wasn't a look of anger, her eyes weren't pleading for mercy from him, but there was definitely something else there. Something that he saw in his own eyes whenever he couldn't overcome his desire for nostalgia and dipped back into the pensieve. He knew that look. It was the look of love. He looked at Hermione, and even though he could only see her back, Snape knew her eyes would possess the same look.

"You're a good professor, Delacour," he felt himself saying. "Just…just don't let this become…too public."


End file.
